


Once More, with Feeling

by Bumocusal



Series: Never going to be finshed, lol (sry) [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dancing and Singing, F/F, F/M, Musicals, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumocusal/pseuds/Bumocusal
Summary: In this adventure, a mysterious force compels the pack to sing songs that reveal their true feelings and deep secrets.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Never going to be finished

When supernatural occurrences happen, in Beacon Hills, they’re usually to the books. Deaton can find the answer quickly and the pack squashes the danger like an average, everyday, mystical bug.

 

This was a little different than their usual run of the mill monster and Stiles is rationally bitter that everything he said was being broadcasted to the small population of their shitty little town. The only upside was that everyone else was experiencing the same problem.

 

Derek had, like usual, pissed off some witches and made them curse the pack. Only this time, it seemed as if the witches had a sense of humor, and were Buffy the Vampire Slayer fangirls. 

 

Beacon Hills is alive with the sound of music, as every single word that is uttered around the pack gets turned into some sick type of broadway musical. It’s turned the town into a soundless pile of fear. 

 

When people open their mouths at school,  _ around Scott, Stiles, Kira, Liam, and Lydia _ , everyone around them glares.

 

It’s been thirty-six hours since the initial morning. 

 

Stiles woke up with a start, his alarm clock ringing loudly in his ears. It didn’t even feel strange that soft classical music was crooned in the background, almost as if it belonged. 

 

He paid no attention to the saxophones as he was taking a shower, or the suddenly sensual twist as he was jacking off. It all fell oddly normal, and he hardly noticed the music was even there. That was until Scott barged into his room.

 

“Please tell me you can hear the music?” Scott looked at him, panic clear on his face.

 

Then an orchestra began to accompany him. It was like something straight off of west side story (the only musical Stiles had ever seen) and was so bizarre Stiles could only laugh, no wheeze, into the crook of his elbow.

 

_ “Oh my friend, please don’t confirm my dread _

_ It can’t be something only in my head, _

_ I don’t think I can handle it _

 

_ When I first was bit and became this monster _

_ You were there to protect my honor,  _

_ And I’m truly grateful _

 

_ But this new trial, bursting into song _

_ I don’t know if I’m going crazy, or if I can be strong _

 

_ So, please erase my doubt _

_ Am I going crazy, or do you know what I’m talking about?” _

 

It had gotten even crazier when his Dad burst into the room, dancing along with a murderous glint in his eye but a wide and extremely fake grin on his face. Stiles had just laughed harder, his stomach hurting.

 

When the music faded out to a low comfortable buzzing, Stiles dad braced himself on a wall and breathed out, exhausted, “What the hell was that?”

 

Scott, Stiles, and John let out groans as the music started back up with even more gusto than the first time. John sent glares at both boys before he opened his mouth and started singing, very badly.

 

_ “What the hell was that, I ask my son _

_ He doesn’t know how much I wish, this bullshit was done _

_ With the supernatural crap _

_ Feeling like a reality slap _

 

_ Why does all this bad, happen to my boy? _

_ When all his life, he’s been an absolute joy _

_ He’s not just some usable toy-” _

 

Stiles watches as his Dad begins the do some dance number.

 

It’s very precise and he almost interrupts the hilarious moment to ask if the Sheriff had been secretly practicing for this special circumstance.

 

And it  _ is  _ funny until his feet miraculously walk toward his dad and he starts to dance along; following the exact routine. Scott is off to the side, a horror-stricken face. He talking to someone on the phone, and it appears to be Lydia.

 

He tries to stop tap dancing, but his Dad starts back up on the chorus.

 

_ “-I know it’s not karma _

_ No need for alarm-a _

 

_ So, tell me, why the hell does this happen to him? _

_ Why has his life turned out so grim? _

 

_ Was I a horrible Dad? _

_ Why does he wear so much plaid? _

 

_ It’s all my fault he's so tangled _

_ He’s going to die, get choked, or strangled _

_ Why is he so abnormally angled?” _

 

Finally, the song is over, but Stiles is panting, slagged on the bed. Scott puts a finger over his lips, begging them to stay quiet. He pulls out his phone and begins to tap them a message. 

 

It essentially says that they can’t talk without the curse taking effect. Stupid witches. The two of them, Stiles dad wanted to stay out of it, quietly walk to the jeep and drive over to Derek's loft, where the pack assembled.

 

The pack consisting of: Scott, Stiles, Derek, Lydia, Kira, Malia, Liam, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Allison, Jackson, and a very unenthusiastic Dr. Alan Deaton (Parish, Chris, Peter, the Sheriff, and Mama-Mccall were honorary members).

 

When they get to the loft, they catch Peter running out the door, looking like he’s running from hell. There's a symphony of voices escaping the door and windows, Peter’s pinched face shows that he’s quietly singing along.

 

From what he can make out, the song is about how Beacon Hills is a drag and basically killed everyone's parents, and all Stiles can do is agree and use all his energy to not began swing-dancing with Peter’s grouchy self.

 

But, it seems that the closer Peter gets to them, the less he sings along. Then he’s right next to the tinted window, and Stiles hesitantly rolls it down.

 

“Listen, we’ve only got til the end of this arrangement to talk,” Peter starts, leaning into the open window of Stiles Jeep, his v-neck showing off his muscles, “When your dad was singing about how bad shit happens to you, we watched the whole damn thing.”

 

Scott raised his eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

 

Peter huffed, “Why did I ever bite you? You're so slow.”

 

“Sorry that I don’t understand your old man language,” Scott pouted.

 

“Stop fighting, Moonchildren. Didn’t you say we only had til the grand orchestra finished?” Stiles interrupted, then immediately going silent as the noise died down from the apartment. 

 

Peter groaned, motioning them to follow him back inside. They reluctantly followed, walking in on the entire pack slouched against any surface, panting. Derek looked the worst, and Stiles almost grinned at the thought of Derek singing.

 

It’s eerily quiet for a  _ long  _ thirty second, everyone staring at each other. Erica and Boyd folded into each other's arms, Lydia and Parrish gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, Allison and Isaac holding each other’s hands-  _ Wait _ , was everyone paired up except for him? 

 

To be honest, it probably wasn’t a good time to be thinking about his love life, but when you're in this dangerous situation and everybody is clinging onto their significant other, Stiles couldn’t help but notice.

 

He was  _ painfully  _ single.

 

Even Peter Hale was holding onto Chris Argent (and that made no fucking sense, even if it was kinda cute in an absolutely vomit inducing way).

 

Everything was silent and although it was could hear a needle drop quiet, the music played on in the background almost peacefully.

 

Until Deaton broke into the front door like a madman, sweat drenching his face, “What happened? Where's the emergency?”

 

The entire group made a collective  _ shhh  _ sound, otherwise not paying him any attention. They waited for the upbeat in tempo, but the music didn’t fluctuate. No singing or dancing, thank the dark lord of the Sith.

 

Luckily Deaton took their advice and didn’t try to make conversation. But he pulled out his iPhone and typed quickly.

 

An automated voice broke through the speakers, “Why are we being quiet again?”

 

Breaking out into a relieved grin, Stiles swiftly pulled out his own phone and tapped out, “Dude, thank fuck you showed up, otherwise we’d have just stood there quietly defeated for the rest of our lives-”

 

Scott’s phone is speaking before his is truly finish, “We can’t speak without singing and anyone in fifty feet gets sucked into the madness.”

 

Deaton nodded, thoughtfully, “Sounds like an enchantment, musical variety. Anything else strange?”

 

Peter pulled out his dinosaur-aged phone, rolling his eyes at all the snickering, “When Scott and the Sheriff sang earlier, our group honed in on it. It felt like we were watching a movie and singing back up.”

 

“Well, no doubt, it was probably the witch Derek mocked yesterday,” Unlike everyone else's robotic British voices, Lydia’s was customized. Probably downloaded an app, the over achiever. 

 

No wonder Stiles liked her since third grade.

 

Everyone turned to Derek, who had the decency to look guilty. 

 

He didn’t pull out a cell to defend himself, mostly because he was stuck in the retro zone and didn’t believe in those newfangled devices. Hell, he was more backward than Peter who at least had a flip phone.

 

“Like most witches spells, I’m assuming this one adapts. We’ll need to change our way of communication before-” 

 

A futuristic techno melody started up, drowning out everything else. It started as a couple of beeps and boops, then went completely mental; Dubstep, psychedelic, and even sounding like some  experimental piece by James Blake.

 

Derek immediately started singing, his voice pitched and autotuned.

 

_ “Like usual it’s all my fault _

_ Cut open a wound, fill it with salt _

_ Speak of my lameness, and I will halt _

 

_ Like usual I’ve fucked the show _

_ Death, despair, division of families, _

_ All entanglements of mankind grow _

_ Bring the kids gawk at my inhumane tragedies _ __   
  


_ I’m fucking stupid _

_ I’ve been shot by cupid _

 

_ But back to the point, It’s all on me-” _

 

Before Derek could continue on with this techno self-hatred monstrosity, Erica broke in. The music shifting from Tron to sultry in an instant.

 

_ “Wait, Dear Alpha, you’re in love? _

_ Who’s this lady? An angel from above? _

 

_ Wait, don’t speak, let’s make it a game _

_ Guess his beloved identity, her perfect name _

_ If your highness likes her, she can’t be lame _

_ Someone to finally tame. _

 

_ The beast?” _

 

Everyone in the room began calling out names in synchronized singing voices.

 

_ “Paige?” _ Isaac sang, horror swamping his face.

 

“ _ No, she’s dead _ ,” Deaton said, looking just as uncomfortable.

 

_ “Kate?” _ Allison chimed in.

 

“ _ No, she’s off her med _ s,” Stiles said, unable to fully say medicine, stupid curse ruining his English.

 

_ “Jennifer? _ ” Liam grinned, apparently, he hadn’t been around long enough to understand how awkward this was.

 

_ “No, out of her head,”  _ Malia was taking it in stride and seemed bored.

 

“ _ Braeden?” _ Peter offered, looking entirely too pleased with the situation.

_ “No, the second they get together, she fled,”  _ Kira and Jackson harmonized.

 

Everything was quiet for a second, and Stiles almost thought it was over. Derek had this unreadable expression on his face, lips pulled back, eyebrows drawn, and body tawt. The music started back up.

 

_ “Hello, people, I think you're ignoring the biggest possibility _

_ Are you overlooking a different sexuality? _

 

_ Maybe he’s in love with a man _

_ All we need to do is form a plan.” _

 

Lydia’s voice is strong and clear, sounding just as beautiful as her talking voice. Her reasoning has everybody looking way too confused for their own goods. 

 

And because Stiles is a good person, he willingly interjects. 

 

_ “Or we can get back to the issues at hand?” _

 

His own voice was croaky, not use to outright singing, it’s usually pretending to with his Aunt during Christmas caroling. 

 

The pack’s focus shifted onto him, and he squirmed, “I mean, maybe it’s not number one priority, but we’re singing this conversation. Can we fix it so we aren’t doing that anymore? Please.”

 

He still feels the heat of their eyes on him, boiling through his clothes and making him feel extremely exposed, “What? I did say please.”

 

“How are you talking and not yodeling?” Allison asked, Isaac curling his body around her back.

 

And right when Stiles begins to realize that  _ holy shit, _ he’s cured- Another tune starts playing, sounding teenybopperish. His own mouth opens and suddenly he’s singing a Taylor Swift-worthy doozy. 

 

Walking to the center of the room, and stipping his t-shirt.

 

“ _ Blood is red, _ _   
_ _ I am blue, _ _   
_ _ Forests at dusk make my thighs quake, _ _   
_ __ But not as much as I love being with you

 

_ I go back to winter quite often. _

_ You’ll realise you’re looking for my ajointing lips." _ _   
_

**Author's Note:**

> Never going to be finished


End file.
